A Series of Unrelated Events: HP & FB Gift Fics Anthology
by kurotsuba
Summary: [ONGOING] A collection of short stories featuring J.K. Rowling's Wizarding World, from the Harry Potter books to the Fantastic Beasts films. All entries are written for gift fic exchanges or request responses. All chapters are standalone fics unless otherwise stated. [NEW: "Brothers Conflict" - for Suhwa]
1. Winter in the Burrow (Dramione Forever)

**Winter in the Burrow**

 _Ron breaks his leg—literally, no pun intended—and he has to watch the Burrow all alone while the rest of the Weasleys are out for Christmas shopping. That is, until an unexpected guest shows up…_

 ** _HPFC Secret Santa gift fic for Dramione Forever._**

* * *

Six months. Six months had gone by since the Battle of Hogwarts… and the first kiss Ron Weasley had shared with Hermione Granger.

Even with the euphoric victory over Voldemort and his Death Eaters, there was still so much more to do for the wizarding communities across Europe to recover from the aftermath of the war. Beneath the hard-earned peace, the tragic losses and the deaths of their loved ones would continue to haunt them all for the rest of their lives.

Ron shook his head. What was wrong with him, getting all sentimental about something that should be left behind him now? This would be his first Christmas of the new era.

And the first time he could spend the holiday with the girl he loved.

…Until he glanced down at his bandaged leg, and frustration welled up inside him once more. It was a stupid accident, really—the kind that only toddlers would make trotting through the crunchy, snowy grounds with their short legs, before falling, face-down, into the freezing ice… Except that Ron tumbled down an angled slope before breaking his leg against the trunk of a tree to stop the fall. Even worse when his sister, Ginny, and her boyfriend, the Harry Potter, dissolved into howling laughter at the comical incident.

To cut the long story short, Ron was left behind at the Burrow to watch the house alone and nurse his injured leg, while the rest of the Weasleys went out for Christmas shopping.

Ron could only let out a sigh as he scratched the bandaged leg. The young man was bored—something about the eerie silence in the usually noisy house didn't sit well with him. The dripping sound of the leaking tap in the kitchen, the ticking gears from the magical clock in the living room, and the occasional scuffles of the gnomes in the attic were all supposed to be everyday ambience to Ron, but he couldn't help fidgeting at the unnerving quietness.

How un-Gryffindor-like of him. The last thing he wanted was to give Harry and Hermione more reasons to laugh at his inferiority complex when compared to his best friends.

Regardless, Ron needed something— _any_ thing—to dispel the rising nervousness before he truly lost his own mind. He dragged himself to the dining area with a mug of steaming-hot chocolate. A small sip on the drink was enough to stop his trembling frame as warmth filled up inside of him, but it couldn't pierce through the cold loneliness that tightened around his heart.

Ron leaned over the kitchen counter to peer out of the window. The sky was getting darker, and the sound of roaring wind was getting louder—a sign that a snowstorm was on its way. A long, tired sigh escaped his lips when finally moved away from the window and slumped into the nearest chair at the dining table.

 _To think that watching an empty house is far more boring than trying to stay awake during a History of Magic class—_

A sudden rumbling noise from the living room made Ron almost fell off the chair in surprise. Wincing, he supported himself with a hand on the table as he tried to get up, the other hand pulling out his wand.

"W-Who's there?"

The rumbling noise turned into a deafening crash as a blast of green flame shot out of the fireplace, scorching the moth-eaten armchairs and painting the walls in black soot. A figure tumbled out of the cloud of dust, and Ron's eyes widened when he recognized who the person was.

"…Hermione? What… How…"

"Oh, hello Ron," his bushy-haired girlfriend greeted back, breathless as she choked a little at the smell of the burning couches before extinguishing the fire with a wave of her wand. "I'm sorry about this. Long story, but Merry Christmas to you."

"Christmas is still, like, couple of days away," Ron was still gaping at Hermione, not quite recovered from her unannounced appearance. "But, what the bloody hell's going on? Why are you here? You aren't supposed to come until Christmas Eve."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron's bandaged leg. "I heard you've injured your leg from Ginny… Are you alright now?"

"Healing, but itchy," Ron replied as he scratched the bandage for the umpteenth time. "But enough about me. Aren't you supposed to be, you know, at your parents'? Thought you'd want to spend more time with them, after you obliviated them and sent them away to Australia, and all…"

Though it wasn't his intention, Ron couldn't stop a hint of bitterness lacing his forced cheerful tone. _I love her, but I'm_ not _obsessed over her_ , he told himself firmly. _Why am I feeling jealous over nothing?_

The dissonance in his voice didn't go unnoticed to Hermione even as the witch was restoring the living room back to its original state with her wand. "As I expected," she sighed when she finally looked at Ron in the eye. "I was worried about you, so I used the Floo Network to get here as soon as I could—and seems like it's still unstable—but you're in an even worse state than I'd imagined."

Hermione helped Ron into one of the armchairs before she took her seat opposite of her injured boyfriend. "You need to have more faith in me, and more confidence in yourself."

 _Easy for you to say._ Ron shook his head at the thought. "I can't help it. Bet you had a laugh about the stupid fall that Ginny had told you in her letters." He glanced sideways, refusing to look at Hermione.

"Ron," Hermione sounded a little exasperated. "No one is perfect; we all make dumb mistakes in our life, and lots of them." She walked over to squeeze herself next to the grumpy redhead. "I'm not going to break up with you over something… trivial as this."

Ron continued to keep his gaze everywhere but at Hermione.

"Ron, please," Hermione huffed with a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Who do you take me for? I love you for who you are—not just the good qualities that you don't seem to notice or even admit yourself, but I also embrace your flaws. All of them come together to make the you today, the you here, now, right beside me."

Ron squirmed a little when Hermione leaned in and put her arms around his neck from the back. "Isn't it the same for you? I'm sure you didn't like me just for my good looks." A light chuckle reached his ears. "But I also want that to be part of the reason why you chose me over all the other girls out there, over Lavender Brown. Eventually, over your _sister-in-law_ too."

Ron shuddered at the last line. He knew that Hermione was talking about Fleur.

"That's… not fair."

This time, Hermione let out a shout of laughter. "Life has never been fair to anyone. You know this better than I do."

Ron could feel Hermione's breath warm on his cheek, even hotter at the heat creeping up his neck when he realized what she was about to do—

Another boom roared from the fireplace once more, this time it was rest of the Weasley family (plus Harry), all covered in soot from head to toe. And they were all staring straight ahead.

Straight at Hermione, who was frozen with her lips on Ron's cheek.

Ginny was the first to break the awkward silence. "About time," she said, nonchalant as she grabbed Harry's hand to drag him towards the stairs. "Let's just move on and pretend that we didn't see that."

The rest of the Weasleys began to shuffle to the kitchen, though rather clumsily while trying to navigate through the narrow spaces between the armchairs armed with bags and boxes from the Christmas shopping. Not helping when they were throwing glances at the bashful pair, from teary delight from Arthur and Molly, to calculating sniggers from George.

Ron could feel his entire head on fire—not just at the embarrassment, but also his irritation at his sassy sister.

"Just watch me, Ginny," he snarked at the youngest Weasley.

Ginny spun around, only for her smirk to be wiped off her face when her eyes widened at what her brother was showing her. Even Harry was greatly amused, so much so that he eyebrows had pretty much disappeared into his bangs.

Ron had just kissed Hermione back, but this time full on her lips. The latter didn't expect this either, merely stood stunned, her eyes fixed on the freckled face that filled her entire vision before her.

"Ron!" Hermione staggered under Ron's weight when their faces finally broke apart. The pain on the redhead's face was more pressing than the shock from the surprise kiss. "Take it easy—your leg…"

Ginny had also rushed forward to help. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be mean to you. It's just… I just want you to be more honest with yourself. I'm happy the two of you are together—I'm glad to have Hermione to be a part of the family."

"There, you have it," Hermione said, finally allowing the kiss to sink into her as her cheeks colored. "We all love you the way you are. And I hope you can love yourself like how I… love you." Her voice trailed off at the last bit.

A wide grin broke out of Ron's sullen face for the first time today. He locked his eyes with Hermione, causing the girl to blush even harder.

 _I love you, too._


	2. Boxception (Theoretical-Optimist)

**Boxception**

 _Trapped between reality and dreams, suspended between agony and bliss… Welcome to the surreal world of Alice Longbottom, stuck in a St. Mungo's ward and losing her damned mind._

 _ **THC gift fic for Theoretical-Optimist.  
**_

 _ **Headcanon:**_ ** _The patients in the Janus Thickey ward (where the Longbottoms are kept) are trapped in their own minds, with no ability to express that they understand what is going on around them. You hear stories about people who are in a persistent vegetative state remembering things that happened, so why not victims of Cruciatus torture?_**

 ** _Warning: Experimental, mental breakdown, horror and dark themes._**

* * *

 _Alice Longbottom, trapped in a box  
Is she dead? Is she alive?  
The handle unwinds with every tick  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
A jack-in-the-box sitting on her palm  
The box is her mind  
And the jester is herself…_

 _Or is it the other way round?_

* * *

I'm vaguely aware of my surroundings. Blinding white lights, whispering voices, the smell of sterilizers… They have all been a major part of my daily routine for as long as I can remember. Or I think I can remember. I don't know. Every time I try to dive into my past memory, everything merely feels like a blur to me—like a cyclone of colors.

Except that there is only two.

Black.  
Red.  
Black.  
More red.  
Black.  
And it stayed black.

My head hurts. I feel like it's going to burst into flames whenever I try to look into my past.

I always wonder if I'm constantly trapped in a limbo, neither dead nor alive, with disembodied chatters floating around me that I cannot connect to. Most of them call me 'Mrs. Longbottom', except for two faces—the only two I can distinguish from the sea of blanks around me.

One with a wrinkled face with sagging facial features and a soft jawline. Every part of her seems like they are rotting away with age; only the sharp glint in her eyes have stood up to the test of time. _Mother_ , my mind says, but that word simply refuses to form on my lips.

The other is much younger, rounder, gentler. A stark contrast with the first. He is always looking at me with those sad, puppy eyes. Did Frank and I ever have a puppy before?

Frank?  
Frank…  
 _Frank._

Who is Frank?

My head hurts again.  
And the pain won't go away.

* * *

 _Tick-tock, tick-tock  
A jack-in-the-box  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Sitting on my palm  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
In a flash of red  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Exploding with delight  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Grinning with agony  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Writhing with pleasure  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Dark eyes boring into mine  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Everything went black_

* * *

The next day, I see the same old lady with her grandson again. The lady seems to have more feathers attached around her neck this time; her stuffed hat appears to be taller and more intimidating than before. The young boy, however, still has the same depressed look on his face.

I turn my head slowly and stare at the boy in the eye.

He smiles at me. A smile that is drenched in tears.

Is he smiling? Or is he crying?  
I don't understand.

He picks up my hand and presses something into my palm. Something that makes a crunching noise when I squeeze it harder. He brings my hand closer to my eyes. It's a candy.

Round, like his face.  
Red, like—

— _Crucio!_

* * *

 _Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Vision turning scarlet  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Skin burning like wildfire  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Scents of blood filling the air…  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
The devil is back!  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
In a flash of red  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Everything burns_

* * *

 _Neville._

A week has passed, and the same pair has come to visit me at the same time, with the same look. Oh, I'm not talking about their clothes. That'd be disgusting.

Same facial expression. Same smile.  
The same smile that didn't reach the sorrow in their eyes.

 _Neville._

A name keeps repeating itself at the back of my mind, growing louder and closer with each call. My chest tightens as the syllables hammered against my ears.

 _Neville._

I remember now.

My son. My precious baby. The proof of my love with Frank Longbottom.

I remember now.

Frank is my husband. We met at Hogwarts, where we fell in love and pledged our loyalty to Dumbledore. It was the place we both called our true home. A home we'd sworn to protect so that one day our boy could go there too, a sanctuary where he could grow up splendidly and make us proud.

I remember now.

A small box. Frank gave me a box. There was a ruby ring inside. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I remember…

The boy presses something into my hand again. This time, it's not round. I can feel the edges cutting into my palm. Something squarish. He raises my hand to my eyes.

 _Chocolate_ , he mouths, and I watch a tear trickling down his downcast eyes before it disappears into the corner of his lips.

The crimson box wrapper expands and fills my vision.  
All I see is red. Everything around me is red.

I remember now!

A jet of scarlet light. A black shadow that looms over my terrified self. I can hear the cries of someone—the newborn in my arms. The silhouette becomes bigger, clearer…

I remember now.

 _Bellatrix Lestrange._

* * *

 _Tick-tock, tick-tock  
The shadow departs  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
The wind continues to howl  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
I am losing my senses  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
The glass breaks  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
The world collapses  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
Falling into darkness  
Tick-tock, tick-tock  
A child's cry piercing through the night_

* * *

I recall that it was a stormy night. I don't know how long I had been running. Screams of terror mixed with the roaring thunder ripple across the land as figures in black cloak marched down the streets. Jets of emerald light arced towards the fleeing backs of the townspeople. One by one, they tripped over as _Avada Kedavra_ curses sucked out the last breath of life from them, leaving them fallen on the ground, with only the horror of realization firmly carved onto their gaunt faces.

Dead.  
Broken.  
Gone.

I peered over my shoulder. That wretched woman was still following us, her wand waving wildly as streams of deadly spells danced around us, engulfing us in a whirlwind of colors.

Colors of death.

My eyes were blinded by the flashes of red and green, exploding with such intensity that the sleeping newborn in my arms was woken up from the shock, and he began to cry.

"Neville," I cooed, rocking the baby to and fro as gently as I could in my trembling arms. Frank was dueling with the dark witch, his counters colliding with her curses and exploding in mid-air. Neville stopped crying, seemingly awed at the display of colorful lights, not knowing the truth behind the blinding glamor.

These weren't the lights of hope. They were the lights to the family's downfall.  
To our grim end.

I held Neville closer to my chest.

"What do you want from us?" Even in the midst of the hair-raising crackles, I could still hear Frank's voice loud and clear.

"You know what I want," the dark witch drawled, giggling. Her high-pitched laughter sent chills down my spine. "That child—my Lord has been searching for him. Give that boy to me."

"No." Without another word, Frank swished his wand and sent another barrage of spells at the dark witch. "I will not allow you to touch my family, Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Bellatrix merely threw her head back and cackled. "We shall see about that!"

"Go," Frank urged. "Take him to my mother—to Augusta. Go."

I wanted to shake my head. _No, I want to stay with you!_ But I knew that he was right. For the sake of our future, the future I was holding in my arms, I had to go.

His lips twitched a little into a soft smile. "I love you."

That was the last time I had ever seen him—seen him normal.  
Because the next time we met, we could never go back to the life we yearned for.

 _Frank!_

* * *

 _What's in the box?  
An engagement ring  
What's in the box?  
The kiss of oath  
What's in the box?  
A pinky promise  
What's in the box?  
The treasure of our days_

 _Treasure?  
What treasure?_

 _I stretch out a hand  
Reaching for the light  
Growing brighter, warmer  
Searing pain ripping through my heart_

 _Ah…_

 _Do you remember now?_

* * *

I am always looking forward to seeing Neville whenever there is someone coming to visit me. I am always excited to see what kind of new things he's going to put into my hands.

Candy.  
Chocolate.  
Gum.  
Sugar quill.

What is he going to surprise me with today?

I feel my heart skipping when I hear approaching footsteps, tapping to the rhythm I can easily tell who it belongs to without tilting my head to see Neville walking towards my bed. I want to smile, but all I can manage is to make my lips tremble. That's not good.

I hear Mother's—Augusta's—usual complaints about the hospital, about the world outside of the protective shell I've been staying at since that stormy night, about every single person who has walked past the ward. Blah, blah, blah. I can't seem to register her rants in my head, and all I'm wishing is for her to stop talking.

Neville is smiling again, but this time he seems genuinely happy. I can't help thinking that he really looks like an excited puppy to me. One that I'd love to cuddle with… to ease the heavy regret bubbling up inside me.

I'm a failure as a mother. How I wish I could've watched him grow up with my own eyes! How I wish I could've sent him off to Hogwarts as a family!

I feel something hard being pushed into my hand, harder and colder than anything I have felt. Here it comes. I feel like my heart is pounding in my ears. _Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump._ Loud enough to drown out Augusta's rambles.

He raises my hand to my eyes.  
My heart stops.

"Surprise!" Neville says, and the box springs open, a little jester bouncing out of the red box. "Do you like it?"

 _No!_ I try to scream, then I can hear a high-pitched laughter mocking me. My throat feels so dry, almost like it's on fire. Streams of scarlet light are coming towards me, and agony is all that I can remember. I want to scream.

 _No!_ The little jester merely smiles at me, bouncing to the merry tune of 'Pop Goes the Weasel'. It's her—I can feel Bellatrix's soul torturing me from within, the dark witch's smirking face becoming bigger as the jester comes closer to my eyes.

 _No!_

"Gram." Neville's chirpy voice sounds further and further away from me. "She likes it. Look, she's smiling! Just like the clown inside this box!"

 _NO!_

* * *

 _What's in the box?  
The Inner Eye has spoken  
What's in the box?  
The prophecy will be fulfilled  
What's in the box?  
The Dark Lord has come  
What's in the box?  
A fragment of thy soul  
What's in the box?  
Pandora's Curse  
_ _What's in the box?  
_ _Stay away from me  
_ _What's in the box?  
_ _Kill me now!_

 _Kill me now  
_ _That face  
_ _Kill me now  
_ _That merry song  
_ _Kill me now  
_ _That smile  
_ _Kill me now  
_ _That box…_

 _Tch, tch, tch_

 _It's a jack-in-the-box!_

* * *

 **Forum:** The Houses Competition  
 **Year/Round:** Year 2, Round 4  
 **House:** Gryffindor  
 **Category:** Bonus - HoH Headcanon  
 **Prompts:** [Object] A small box  
 **Word Count:** 1807  
 **Rating:** T for mental breakdown, horror and darker themes  
 **Beta:** Tigger


	3. One Night in Moscow (Suhwa)

**One Night in Moscow**

 _"None of us want this night to end."_

 _ **Fanart to Fanfic Gift Exchange with Suhwa.**_

 _ **Warning: OC-centric, alcohol-induced intimacy, some profanities.**_

* * *

 _Even whispers aren't heard in the garden,_  
 _Everything has died down till morning._  
 _If you only knew how dear to me_  
 _Are these Moscow nights._

 _The river moves, unmoving,_  
 _All in silver moonlight._  
 _A song is heard, yet unheard,_  
 _In these silent nights._

 _Why do you, dear, look askance,_  
 _With your head lowered so?_  
 _It is hard to express, and hard to hold back,_  
 _Everything that my heart holds._

 _But the dawn's becoming ever brighter._  
 _So please, just be good._  
 _Don't you, too, forget_  
 _These summer, Moscow nights._

—"Moscow Nights", a Russian folk song

* * *

Three years had gone by ever since she had started dating Julius de Vlad, but Makoto Kisaragi still couldn't get used to the ballroom parties with the high society in both the wizarding and the Muggle world. Her cheeks ached from constantly wearing a sweet, polite smile on her pretty face to greet all sorts of 'Very Important People' to the Vlads' family business. Her head throbbed from remembering the names of every single one of them so that she would be ready to support her boyfriend once the latter succeeded in the position as the next Paramount of France.

 _No, I can't falter. I can't depend on Julius for every little thing all the time._

Her best friend and Julius' twin sister, Yuri, had once told Makoto that whoever had her brother would own the whole world. It was an exaggeration, but not one without a basis and reason. Julius was a man who was willing to give _everything_ he had to Makoto—so much more than what Makoto could ask from him. The least Makoto could do in return was to stay by Julius' side, to be a support and partner befitting the future _roi_ of the French wizarding families.

Which was why she had to attend tonight's gathering.

Hosted in a private manor house on the outskirts of Moscow by Valentin Ruslanovich Petrosky, a Muggle billionaire who rose to power in Russia after his family business had expanded and monopolized the oil industry in most parts of Europe and Asia. However, the huge wealth came with increasing arrogance—if it wasn't for their past ties with the KGB and their dark, dirty connections with various Muggle governments, most families wouldn't bother to cooperate with snobbery people like the Petroskys. It was ironic that the hosts themselves were nowhere to be seen. It would be painful for Makoto to constantly walk around with Julius to greet the other invited guests with a new pair of black high heels, so she was left behind in the dark corner of the hall, with her back facing the partygoers to avoid attracting unwanted attention to herself.

 _Easier said than done._

Glancing up at her reflection in the one-way mirror, Makoto's dark eyes met a young lady with ethereal beauty in a modest midnight blue cocktail dress; it covered most of her healthily pale skin sans a high-cut side split that showed a glimpse of her slender right thigh. She raised a hand gracefully to smooth out the creases, the silky material fitted snugly around her voluptuous figure… except that the reflection was _too perfect_ to be a real woman.

For the person in the glass window was a _man_ under all that beautiful glamor.

Makoto was blessed with the rare ability of Metamorphmagus. Only the feminine curves were the results of his magical gift through genetic inheritance; the shoulder-length curls and his soft facial features were honed from his natural, original appearance. After all, he had been living as a girl for _years_ ever since he was transferred from Mahoutokoro to Ilvermorny, before moving to Hogwarts and met his destined person. It all began as part of his training—as a member of the Hoshina Clan, a vassal family to the Kisaragi who is well-known for their mastery in disguise—and his assignment as the bodyguard of the true heir, Miyu, while posing as the latter's "sister". In those three short years, Makoto had been through thick and thin with Julius, starting as an acquaintance through Miyu's friend and Julius' twin sister, Yuri. Then they became friends through Yuri's attempt at playing their matchmaker…

Long story short, after numerous twists and turns in their life, they finally became the couple whom most were envious… and jealous of. There were still a few obstacles in their way, but Makoto was confident that they would be able to overcome them one day, and together. Nothing could possibly stop them now, not after all the horrible traumas they had been through in the past.

Disregarding his biological gender that was known only among close families and friends, many guests at the social parties would often try to approach the _drop-dead gorgeous_ Makoto, hoping to conquer a trophy 'girl' like him, except…

"Makoto."

His breath quickened at the deep, velvet voice whispered into his ear, which came with the surprise hug from behind.

"Sorry to make you wait. Some of these Russian customers are quite the chatterbox."

Turning around slowly, Makoto came face to face with Julius, who was in a handsome black tuxedo with a crimson bow-tie around his neck. He locked his eyes with Julius' aquamarine ones before he broke out a small, demure smile.

"It's alright. So… um, should we go back to the dance floor, together?" he asked, tilting his head a little towards the center hall filled with couples gliding across the marble ground to the waltz.

Julius seemed to notice the hint of reluctance in his melodic, feminine voice. Makoto vaguely felt Julius' arms snaking around his slim waist and pulled him closer, their noses now inches apart from each other. "…Do you want to?"

The lack of distance between them made Makoto breathless from the moment of ecstasy. His wild heartbeat drowned the buzzing around him; heat crept up his neck to his cheeks from the adrenaline rush, before the world around him finally settled into the rhythmic tempo of his thumping heart. There was an awkward pause when Makoto felt Julius' hard, muscular chest squeezing against his large, softer breasts, but the strange feeling was forgotten once he threw his arms around Julius' neck, his spine was tingling from the gentle touch of Julius' big hands on his back.

"Maybe… _not_."

Makoto could smell the refreshing cologne from his partner's breath as their lips touched—

" _Vot ty gde, Gospodin de Vlad._ "

The pair broke apart in shock at the scratchy voice that addressed Julius out of the blue. Both looked around to see an old man with balding grey hair and a monocle on his right eye, who was regarding the couple with an amused sneer. Behind the man was a lady of his age, most likely his spouse. Next to her was a young blond man—presumably their son—his amber eyes flashing with a glint of awe the moment his sight fell on Makoto.

" _Gospodin Petrosky,_ " Julius returned the greeting politely just like how he had been groomed as the heir of the de Vlad family, but Makoto could hear a hint of dangerous warning in his curt, businesslike voice. "My _girlfriend_ ," he added, pulling Makoto close to his side until the latter had to lean on him for support.

"My wife, Ilya," Valentin Petrosky said, gesturing to the people behind him. "And my son, Lev."

Lev stepped forward after he was being introduced. Ignoring the icy glare Julius shot at him, the blond boy held up Makoto's right hand to his lips. However, he narrowed his eyes at something that sparkled on Makoto's ring finger. Makoto tried to pull back his hand during the momentary pause, but Lev didn't let go, and instead planted his lips firmly on the gold ring.

" _Prekrasnyy_ ," he breathed and straightened up, then he stared at Makoto with his intense, unblinking eyes. "What is your name?"

Before Makoto could introduce himself, Julius pried the former's hand off Lev's and rubbed his thumb on the gold ring gingerly, almost like he was polishing off Lev's filthy kiss from earlier. "Maybe I should have made myself _clearer_ ," the heir of House Vlad began. Even if Makoto felt the warmth in Julius' hand, he couldn't help shivering at the cold aura spilling out from his partner's burly, intimidating frame.

"Makoto is _my_ fiancée. We are already engaged with each other."

" _Moi izveneniya_ ," Lev said as he bowed at Makoto, then he turned his attention to Julius and smirked. "I was under the impression that you two are already… married."

Makoto pursed his lips. Knowing how Julius would often react violently to suitors who only stared at his partner with any hint of impure thoughts, the last thing Makoto wanted was for Julius to paint his hands in the blood of another horny man, especially one like Lev with a sharp tongue. In his hurried attempt to quell the rising tension between two men from powerful families, Makoto kissed lightly on Julius' cheek before flashing an apologetic smile at Lev.

"We are engaged for now, yes, but we have already made plans to tie the knot _next year_."

A lie. Makoto wasn't sure if he would marry Julius so soon given the death of the latter's father, Valois de Vlad, and the aftermath of Yuri's marriage with her fiancé, Ivanhoe Pendragon, that happened in the past two years. Too many things were going on in Julius' family, and it wasn't the appropriate time to throw in another big event and push the Vlads' limited sanity over the edge. Even so, Makoto tightened his grip on his partner's suit, pretending to give Julius another kiss but only to breathe a few words into his ear.

"Let's… not make a scene here."

Julius continued to glower at Lev for another minute, then he finally relaxed and flashed a cold sneer at the Muggle heir. "It is not in the Vlads' nature to back down from a threat, but we wouldn't want a boring party like this to lose their host now, do we?"

Lev narrowed his eyes at Julius' disdainful sarcasm; before he could open his mouth to retort, Valentin cleared his throat and looked between the two young men. Makoto shuddered at the stern glint of amber from the Russian ex-general, eerily magnified by the monocle over the right eye.

"As you have said so yourself, _Gospodin de Vlad_ , I am the host for tonight's little gathering." He let out a bark of laughter, then snapped his fingers at a service crew member not far from the group carrying a tray of champagne. "Shall we drink? It is a waste not to, when the moon is at its brightest… just like your girlfriend."

Makoto could help marvel at how Valentin was completely unfazed as his own wife tightened her vice-like grip around the old man's arm. He averted his gaze when Ilya glowered at him with an expression Makoto knew too well.

 _Bitch. Vixen. Whore. Slut._

Memories of his horrid school life at Ilvermorny flashed across Makoto's mind eye. Snickers of bullying girls who had him surrounded filled his vision, drowning out the idle chit-chats between the three businessmen as they sipped on the wine. He squeezed Julius' arm for reassurance, pushing the dark thought out of his head to return his attention back on the current time, to the current scene before him.

Coming back to reality wasn't the issue here; it was the strange sensation how Julius' hand was no longer just resting on Makoto's hip, but inching up his waist. He glanced up and widened his eyes.

Julius' handsome face seemed to glow under the moonlight, a playful glint in his aquamarine eyes as he looked down at his Japanese partner. Makoto did not share his amusement, horrified at the taller man's reddening cheeks.

"You… are drunk."

Julius tugged at the bow tie on his collar, finishing his champagne before flashing a lopsided smile at Makoto. "I'm not. My mind is still crystal clear like this empty wine glass in my hand." He chuckled to himself at the analogy.

Makoto gulped and gave the Petrosky family a sideways glance. Among all the de Vlads, an intoxicated Julius was the most troublesome to deal with. He could feel his body reacting to the suggestive touch, yearning for the intimacy… but no, he could not do it here. He could not let it happen here while the Russian Muggles were still staring at them curiously.

"I… think we should go," Makoto finally said, tugging at Julius with a pleading look before he gave the Petroskys an apologetic smile. "My partner seems tired. We appreciate the invitation; we have enjoyed our time here."

Valentin and Ilya merely raised an eyebrow, neither of them seemed to care enough to make Julius and Makoto stay any longer. Lev, however, was not pleased to see them go.

Or rather, he did not want the pretty Makoto to leave his field of sight.

He stepped forward and grabbed Makoto's arm, trying to pull the latter away from the Frenchman. " _Ne ukhodi_ ," he breathed, his face closing in on a stunned Makoto, his amber eyes holding onto the latter's gaze with a hypnotizing look. "Come with me, _baryshnya_ , and I can give you everything—and _more_ —than what that _boy_ can provide to you."

Before Makoto could say anything or react to Lev's attempt to court him, Julius slapped away the Muggle Russian's arm with a loud smack, throwing eye daggers at him, cold and piercing.

"How many times must I remind you that _she is mine_?"

With a flourish, he pulled off the bow tie and wrapped his arms around Makoto protectively. Makoto was a little dazed at Julius' sudden anger, but he permitted himself a small smile at how much his boyfriend cared for him…

Except that Julius did not stop with just a crushing bear-hug.

Makoto inhaled sharply when he felt Julius' hot breath on his neck. Julius then nibbled his right ear, which made Makoto let out an involuntary squeal at the tickling sensation. He was too shocked to breathe when Julius began to kiss him passionately on the lips, the latter's arm slithering across his back and made Makoto tremble with a muted excitement at the touch.

 _This is so wrong._

Makoto knew that he had to stop Julius' rampage and get out of this place quickly, yet his body refused to push his French partner away, pulling him deeper into the exhilaration of intimate affection. He didn't care if Valentin and Ilya were glowering at them with disapproval. He didn't care if Lev was gaping at them with disappointment and jealousy. He didn't care if Julius probably wouldn't remember this the next day, and merely complained about the hangover.

Right now, all Makoto wanted was to savor this moment of triumph for as long as it could last.

When the pair finally broke apart and gasped for air, Makoto looked up into Julius' eyes, the same unspoken words in his mind were reflected in that gaze that sparkled under the gentle radiance of the full moon.

 _None of us want this night to end._


	4. Brothers Conflict (Suhwa)

**Brothers Conflict**

" _It takes two men to make one brother._ "  
—Israel Zangwill

 _ **Friendship Gift Fic for Suhwa.**_

* * *

 **ACT ONE  
uno**

* * *

" _James Potter Junior!_ " The morning of September the first began with the bloodcurdling scream of a thirteen-year-old Percival Potter, the eldest son of James Sirius Potter. The sandy brown-haired boy burst out of his bedroom and rammed hard against the door next to his. " _Get up! NOW!_ "

"Percival?" The soft but alarmed voice of his mother spoke from around the corner as a strawberry-blond lady poked her head out of the kitchen. "Why are you yelling so early in the morning?" She sighed when the muffled sound of a child crying could be heard from the story above. "You are scaring little Nicholas. He's only three this year."

Anidori Natalie Potter (née Pendragon) was a pureblood witch and a noblewoman hailing from a banking family based in Italy. The Pendragons were one of the members of the High Houses in Europe—a group of rich and highly ranked magical families that had business ties with both the wizarding communities and the Muggle world. Out of consideration of her demure personality, her parents had sent her to Hogwarts for her education instead of Durmstrang, the latter being more forthcoming concerning the study of Dark Arts. Percival had heard stories of how his mother had met Dad at school, of how after a series of dangerous love-hate games, they fell in love with each other…

And now they were a family. Natalie had followed the footsteps of her Auror mother and joined the British Ministry of Magic, becoming a junior officer—what's more, a subordinate—of James Sirius. However, her decision was not as shocking as the latter, who had surprisingly inherited the legacy of Harry, his late father, when most thought he would have joined a Quidditch team and become a national player.

Percival would have been happier if it was just his parents, himself, and Nicholas the toddler. Unfortunately, the existence of a second-born turned his ideal family life into a nightmare.

James Junior—or better known by his nickname 'JJ'—was very much a younger clone of James Sirius with the same dark hair and brown eyes, even sharing his love for troublemaking and general misbehavior. Natalie had lamented on a few occasions of how she regretted that JJ was taking too much after his father, although she did not share the same sentiment and hatred for the younger boy like Percival.

Turning his attention to his mother, Percival raised up a battered book in his hand, his baby-blue eyes flashing crossly. "He… H-He did this to my notes! He asked me for these last week so that he could study before his debut at Hogwarts, but… _he vandalized the first-year notebooks that I had lent to him out of pure goodwill! And chucked them back to me as loose pieces!_ "

A slight twitch of the eyebrow could be seen on the otherwise impassive expression on Natalie's pretty face, though her suppressed amusement was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Well, as long as he didn't write anything inappropriate. It's not like he didn't return what he had borrowed from you." Her amber eyes glanced at the fireplace for a brief second before she shook her head and sighed again, then she retreated back to the kitchen to make breakfast for the rest of the family.

His mother had a point. _If JJ was anything like Dad…_ He couldn't help shuddering at the thought. As much as he wanted to love his father, there was something about James Sirius that he couldn't bring himself to like him. Maybe it was the mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes whenever Natalie complained about the four-hundred-and-fifty-seventh dame who had unknowingly fallen for her husband's seductive charm (according to his mother, Dad was quite a womanizer back in their school days). Or maybe it was the dark humor that accompanied the practical joke items he was inventing and experimenting with during his free time for Weasley & Weasley, a joke shop at Diagon Alley founded by his granduncles, Fred and George Weasley (currently managed by Granduncle Ron, and Fred II). He recalled one of his mom's old school stories about how her first kiss was stolen by Dad in order to unseal the jinxed Sellotape on her mouth, which was a prototype developed 'to help couples to practice snogging', in his father's words.

Or maybe he simply couldn't understand why a perfect princess like Natalie would fall for a manipulative devil like James Sirius.

Exhaling slowly, Percival gave his brother's room another glare and roundhouse-kicked the door. "Get up already, you lazy bum."

He could hear a snicker from behind the door as he turned around to leave. "…How could I not when your _girly screech_ is about to bring the roof down?"

* * *

 **ACT TWO  
due**

* * *

The Sorting Ceremony had always been an unnerving moment for Percival, who was seated at the Gryffindor table, craning around to see the first-years wobbling up to the stool to wear the Sorting Hat after their name was called. He became more and more anxious as the group of new students was thinning. He almost jumped off the bench when Professor Longbottom called out the very name he had been dreading to hear.

"Potter, James Junior!"

A short raven-haired boy hopped up the stairs and flopped onto the stool. Restlessness spread across the Great Hall at the name of Potter, a reaction that Percival had also received two years ago when he began schooling at Hogwarts. JJ flashed a winning smile at the crowd, then he crossed his arms before him, waiting expectantly for the Herbology teacher to place the hat on his head. The moment Professor Longbottom released the hat and let it fall over the eyes of the twerp, the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

A groan of despair escaped from between Percival's lips as he watched JJ jumping off the stool and stumbling towards the table of red and gold. The horror of having the little tyke in the same house as he was made Percival shrink further into his seat. He had enough of his younger brother back home, and now he had lost his only sanctuary to the devil who had made his childhood oh-so miserable. He narrowed his eyes when the other Gryffindors were showering pats and hugs on a beaming JJ, his grip tightening around an empty goblet.

 _I am the older child_ , he told himself firmly. _I will not allow a mere brat like him to sully the house of Gryffindor… and the name of our family._

He didn't care if the students who were seated near him snapped their head around and glared at him when he slammed the goblet onto the table. If JJ could have his way at home with the nasty pranks, then Percival had every intention to return the favor and get back at his brother while in school. He would put the younger boy to his own place once and for all.

* * *

 **ACT THREE  
tre**

* * *

"Perce… Oi, Percy, wake up!"

Gryffindor did beat Slytherin in their first Quidditch match of the season, but not without a price to pay. Opening a beady eye at the annoying, chirpy voice, Percival saw the worried face of his brat brother looming into his view. He winced when he tried to get up from the bed, and JJ hurried forward to lend him a hand. At least his limbs were intact, but he had probably broken a rib or two from the match earlier.

Shaking his head slowly to clear his fuzzy feeling in his mind, Percival sat up a little straighter. He looked down at the younger boy sitting on a stool next to his bed, whose legs were dangling off the ground due to his short stature.

"You… were crying."

JJ raised an arm to cover his eyes, wiping the tears off with the sleeve of his school robe. "…I wasn't."

"You're such a lousy liar."

Silence hung between the two brothers for what felt like another full minute before JJ broke the awkward tension with his usual cheeky grin. "So… Still alive, Perce?"

A snort. "What the hell does that mean?" Exhaling slowly, Percival's gaze softened at the wide smile that did not reach those puffed brown eyes. "I'm alright, just feeling a bit numb."

The beam fell from JJ's face and he looked down at his short legs that were hanging off the tall stool with his toes pointing awkwardly at the ground. "I was so scared when you fell off your broom… Professor Longbottom was deathly pale when he levitated you to the Hospital Wing on a stretcher. I didn't know what to tell Mom and Dad if you… if you never wake up again."

Percival froze for a moment. How many times had he wished that JJ was never born? How many times had he dreamed of a life where JJ did not exist? How many times had he hoped that JJ could have just died or disappeared from his life, and never come back? The guilt of shame at those despicable thoughts about the young boy before him was more agonizing than the physical injuries he had sustained from the Quidditch match. Stretching out a hand, Percival patted his brother's head.

"I… have always hated you."

"I know."

"And it's never going to change."

"I know."

JJ slowly raised his head, then he stuck out his tongue at an amused Percival.

"You wouldn't be my brother if you were lovey-dovey with me!"

As Percival watched the little devil leaving the Hospital Wing, a small smile broke across his face.

"Even so, I still love you." Then he put a clenched fist over his heart.

 _Always._

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:**_

 _ *** Title is inspired by the Japanese otome game, "Brothers Conflict".**_

 _ *** The original characters used in this fanfic belong to the following people:  
\- James Junior/JJ - mine;  
\- Percival, Natalie, Nicholas - Suhwa.**_

 _ *** "Anidori Natalie Pendragon" is the OC's original full name; however, she is called by her middle name instead of her first name. This is done so at the request from the benefactor of this gift fic.**_

 _ *** As Suhwa's OC, Natalie, being an Italian originally, the segments are titled based on the Italian for "One", "Two", and "Three" respectively.**_

* * *

 **Forum:** The Houses Competition  
 **Year/Round:** Year 4, Round 4 (Bonus)  
 **House/Position:** Ravenclaw, Year 5 (stand-in)  
 **Category:** Standard  
 **Prompt:** [Time Period] Post-Next Generation Era  
 **Bonus Restriction:** No repetition of prompts within the same house  
 **Rating:** K+  
 **Word Count:** 1599 (G-Doc; story only)


End file.
